


Louder Than Words

by Lyrstzha



Series: The Seer and the Champion [2]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrstzha/pseuds/Lyrstzha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike is willing to stand by Angel in the face of almost certain death in "Not Fade Away", but he's bound and determined to make sure his Seer gets out alive. Lindsey doesn't appreciate this as much as you might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Louder Than Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brunettepet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brunettepet/gifts).



Spike wouldn't say so, not in so many words, but he likes taking care of his Seer—and not just because it annoys the hell out of Angel.

Spike started keeping aspirin in the medicine cabinet of his tiny apartment months ago. Now he's got Tylenol with codeine, percocet, and vicodin in his pockets at all times, ready to be produced at a moment's notice.

Lindsey always takes the proffered pills with a hoarse murmur of "Thanks, Champ," his voice rough with pain but still laced with mischief anyway. He's taken to calling Spike 'Champ' ever since he realized that it makes Angel's left eyelid twitch madly every time. And then Spike and Lindsey always share a private grin about that as Spike offers his flask to wash down the pills. He even keeps a flask full of _water_ on him now, just for that purpose, and he's pretty sure _that_ is serious devotion to duty.

And if Spike's anywhere within sight or earshot of his Seer when a vision strikes, Lindsey _never_ hits the ground; Spike is right there to catch him and carefully lay him down on the nearest soft surface.

Angel tries to twit him about it only once.

"What?" Spike asks him, eyebrow cocked disdainfully. "Just 'cause _you_ were crap at minding all yours doesn't mean _some_ of us can't do it proper."

Angel flinches visibly, turns away quickly, and never says anything on the subject again.

So when Angel lays out his plan for creative suicide, Spike objects. "I'll come to your party, but you leave my Seer out of this," he growls at Angel. "His life's not yours to throw around."

"No," Lindsey snaps, with an annoyed kick at Spike's ankle. "It's _mine_. And you an' me, we're a team. You wanna say different, you take it up with the Powers." He nods decisively at Angel. "We're in. _Both_ of us." He quells Spike's next protest with a baleful glare.

"Stubborn bugger," Spike mutters.

"As you say, he's _your_ Seer," Angel tells him, entirely too cheerfully.

So Spike bides his time until afterward and gets Lorne alone. "Hey. Need you to do me a favor."

"If this is about your hair, I think you should just wait until that look comes back into fashion. It'll be easier."

"No, that's not what—what's _wrong_ with my hair?"

"Not a thing, honey," Lorne reassures him, with a pat on the shoulder. "And don't you let anyone tell you different. You make it work."

Spike frowns. "I don't—look, never mind that. I wanna talk to you about Lindsey. Heard you're taking off when you finish your part of the cunning plan. Want you to take him with you."

Lorne's eyes widen. "And how does Mr. Southern Charm feel about that?"

Spike turns suddenly shifty eyes down to his shoes for a moment before he says, "He won't go easy. Or, y'know, at all. Not unless you make him."

"And how, exactly, would you like me to manage _that_?"

"Not saying I want you to hurt him, just...," Spike shrugs. "Knock him out. But don't hit him in the head, 'cause he's got headaches enough already. Maybe just put him to sleep with a bit of something."

"Uh huh." Lorne regards Spike dubiously. "Something like...?"

"Maybe those tranq darts from the science department," Spike offers.

Lorne sighs. "This is important to you, isn't it?"

Spike glances away and fiddles with the cuffs of his coat. "Well. My Seer, isn't he? Trusted to me to look after."

"So you're just a good soldier doing your duty as commanded by the Powers?" Lorne asks him with a knowing look.

"Guess so." Spike fidgets. "Mostly." He fidgets some more, and finally blurts, "He's a decent sort too, isn't he? Deserves a bit of care, 'specially after the way he's had my back all year." There's a long moment of pointed silence from Lorne, and Spike almost squirms out of his skin. At last he adds, "Never had anyone really believe in me like that before him. Buffy, maybe, in the end, but Lindsey? Since the moment we met, he's been _sure_ I'm his Champion. The one bloke in all the world." Spike raises his eyes to meet Lorne's. "Not so bad dying if I know he _isn't_, yeah?"

Lorne just nods once, red eyes soft with understanding. "I'll do it. Or anyway, I'll try."

"S'all I'm asking," Spike tells him fervently. "Thanks. I'd offer to return the favor, but what with the dying and all, probably not so much."

But walking on his way to a date with Angel's last battle in the alley behind the Hyperion, it's clear that things haven't gone exactly to plan.

"Asshole," Lindsey hisses, stepping out of the shadows in front of Spike with his fists clenched.

"Ah," Spike counters intelligently. "Er."

Lindsey punches him in the shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt, but with enough force to register real annoyance. "I thought we had us an _understanding_. We're a _team_, you moron. You don't get to leave me behind and go get killed on your own. That's not how this works. I get your back, and you accept that if you respect me."

"Not that I don't respect you," Spike protests immediately. "It's just...well, you're the messenger part of the team, yeah? _I'm_ the one who's supposed to be doing the actual danger to life and limb part."

"Says _who_?" Lindsey demands, accent thickening with his outrage. "Angel? 'Cause I didn't get a guidebook for all this shit, an' I sure as hell don't believe he did, either. Only thing I know for sure is we're meant to work together to save the world. Everythin' else, I go with my gut, and my gut says we're in this together. _Whatever_ comes."

"Yeah? Then how come I don't get half your headaches?" Spikes argues mulishly.

"Don't be an idiot." Lindsey rolls his eyes. "Look, it comes down to this: I don't think responsibility is somethin' you're given; I think it's somethin' you take. An' I've messed that up enough for one lifetime, so I'm takin' this one."

"No," Spike insists. "You gotta go on and help the next Champion."

"Who died an' made _you_ a Power? They need another Seer, they can tap a new guy."

"I said _no_," Spike insists again, game face rippling, fangs flashing out.

"Don't even," Lindsey warns him. "You can't make me stay away, 'less you're plannin' on killin' me yourself."

"But I want you out of this," Spike growls in frustration. "Why're you so set on Angel's Light Brigade, anyway?"

"Maybe I just don't wanna miss a good party," Lindsey retorts brashly.

"Right. Now try the truth," Spike demands.

"No way I'm lettin' Angel take all the credit?" But it definitely sounds more like a question than a statement.

Spike frowns and crosses his arms sternly. "The _truth_, I said. Or I'm tying you up and dropping you off someplace safe."

Lindsey's whole posture suddenly seems to close in a bit, becoming less bristlingly combative and more uncertain, maybe even a little vulnerability in the hunch of his shoulders.

"I never had a partner before," he finally confesses softly. "It was always look out for number one with me, protectin' myself 'cause I thought _nobody_ would ever do that for me. But this," he waves his hand between them. "It's not how I thought things worked." He shrugs a little awkwardly. "But it's good, an' I wanna live in a world where this _is_ how things work. Or not. Can you get that?"

Spike grins a little ruefully, hanging his head and rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Yeah, you know, I really, really can."

"So you'll suck it up an' quit tryin' to fight me on this?"

Spike's chin jerks once to the side, not quite either a negative shake or a nod. "My job to protect you, Lindsey. I don't like this."

"Yeah, well, I don't like _you_ goin' either, but you wouldn't be my Champion if you were the kinda guy who'd walk away from this."

"Guess I can't argue with you," Spike sighs.

"Damn straight," Lindsey says feelingly. "'Bout time you realized that."

But instead of snarking right back, Spike just fixes him, eye to eye, looking searchingly for a long moment.

"What're we waitin' for?" Lindsey shifts uncomfortably, not quite looking away, but blushing a little under the intense regard.

"Just, something in the way you said _your_ Champion...," Spike muses.

"What about it?" Lindsey twitches a little and blushes even more; Spike can hear his heartbeat thudding harder in his chest.

"Yeah, it's just..." And Spike takes a quick step forward, one hand going around Lindsey's waist, the other lifting to cup the back of his neck and pull him in.

Lindsey's jaw is stiff with surprise, but Spike presses their lips together anyway, lightly sliding a question against Lindsey's lower lip with the tip of his tongue. His answer is in the way Lindsey _melts_ against him, mouth abruptly open, wet, and welcoming, and so warm against Spike's own. Spike tries to press in slowly, sweetly, but Lindsey, as always, is contrary. He makes a breathless, guttural sound deep in his chest and grabs for Spike's face, his fingers caging sharp cheekbones and pale hair. He pushes against Spike like he's trying to climb inside and lose himself, driving Spike back against the dingy, crumbling brick of the alley wall hard enough to steal the breath Spike doesn't need. Even when he finally pulls back a little, he does so with little licks and tiny bites to Spike's lips on the way, like stopping is something he has to work up to before he can manage it.

"This isn't just another way to get Angel's goat, is it?" Spike finally husks in a slightly thick voice, when Lindsey gives him enough space to get words out.

Lindsey grins and chuckles warmly, and leans back in for one more quick nip at Spike's lower lip. "World doesn't revolve 'round Angel, y'know. No matter _what_ he thinks. This ain't about him." But then Lindsey pulls just a little bit further back, his expression sobering. "Not for me, anyway," he adds, a question plain on his face.

"Me neither," Spike supplies quickly. He cocks his head to the side and offers Lindsey a cheeky smirk. "Not that it isn't a nice bonus, mind."

Lindsey grins back. "That goes without sayin'. An' the lip-lock I'm gonna give you when we get there? _That_ one's gonna be just a _little_ bit about him."

Spike laughs delightedly. "Knew I liked you for a reason. I'm right there with you, mate."

Lindsey brushes his fingertips over Spike's smile like he wants to chart the curve of it. "One more just for us, then?" And he leans back in without waiting for an answer, settling his lips against Spike's softly, carefully, with all the slow sweetness Spike had attempted before. Lindsey gently brushes their mouths together and shares their breaths, more intimacy than burning passion. It tingles and teases and swells a slow, soft fullness in Spike's chest.

And if it feels like goodbye, well, there's a hello in it, too, and Spike thinks that that's enough to go on. Maybe his last death was a pretty literal blaze of glory, but at least this time Spike _believes_ the words Lindsey hasn't actually said out loud.

Spike regretfully pulls back at last, and he looks at Lindsey's face, flushed and open and softer around the edges than he's ever seen it. As he takes Lindsey's hand and turns with him to go face impossible odds, he thinks _definitely enough to go on_.


End file.
